


Arkaios

by rockme



Category: The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Epilogue, F/M, Post-War, Pre-Epilogue Mockingjay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 15:17:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5380004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockme/pseuds/rockme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life after the war, pre-epilogue but still pretty much Epilogue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arkaios

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am twenty years old. I live in what was once known as District 12. It rains a lot here now.

Some days the rain is so light, it’s almost not there. The only indication is a rainbow, constant and unwavering in rays of sun that peek through the clouds. Peeta is patient when he paints them, because they aren’t rare anymore. He could stop in the middle of his masterpiece, eat a meal, play with the cat, brush kisses along my jawline, and still finish his work based off the same rainbow.

Then some days the rain pours down, thundering and lightening like there’s no way rain can exist without it. Buttercup hides on those days, mewing as if he could summon Prim up to comfort him.

And then one day, it stops. I know it’s done for good when I look out the kitchen window and see the clouds rolling away. There’s one final rainbow, but Peeta couldn’t even catch it in a photograph if he wanted to. It’s gone by the time I finish skinning the rabbit.

“The sky is so blue,” Peeta comments. He leaves the front door open, staring out. His hair has grown out now; soft blonde curls wavering when the wind brushes them against his cheeks. Buttercup is gone before we even realize it. He hasn’t hunted by himself in weeks.

The day after it stops raining is when the fence is knocked down. It doesn’t take much since the ground is so wet. But once I realize it’s finally happening, I drag Peeta from the couch and run towards it, heart leaping when pieces of the fence follow a garbage truck. It takes most of the day to tear it down. With each piece gone, I feel as free as I did on the other side of it.

It’s as if the rain cleansed everything, and it knew it had a job to finish. It wouldn’t stop until every speck of coal dust was washed away. By now, what was left of District 12 had settled.

In my mind, The Day The Fence Was Torn Down was the day that everything had finally felt real. The day I realized Peeta and I were finally safe. It also helped that in the days to follow, trucks and hovercrafts and people stomped in and smoothed the old square over. At first I was offended. I screamed at them, these people I didn’t recognize at first. How dare they even touch that place? It was sacred now. That Place was filled with the lives of people who walked that square daily, who knew nothing but. Who died because of me. It was a daily reminder, every time I glanced in that direction.

But then I realized who these people were. They were all remainders of our original district. I even recognized volunteers from 13, as well as the Capitol. Not so much recognized but realized. A blue-colored person here, a purple-haired person there. They were helping me to forget and remember all at once.

It’s unbelievable how fast the square was rebuilt. How fast all the rubble and debris was erased. You would never know firebombs were dropped. You would never know an entire district was almost wiped out. You would never even know there were mines here once. As it turns out, coal was never really a necessity in the Capitol. It was just a way to keep us at work, to keep us distracted from starting an uprising. Especially now that President Paylor is in charge, every source of energy we use is renewable. She made sure electricity is always available to us, but there’s nothing like sitting by the fire wrapped up in Peeta before bed.

The square is almost a replica of what stood before, except there are no screens, or banners, or anything to indicate that an entire district must gather and watch. There’s the Justice Building, the town shops including the bakery, a new train station since the one before was pretty much non-existent, and a new building called the post office. I remember learning about them in school, but not much was said since a mail delivery system was forbidden between the districts. It’s now a luxury that all the districts can put to use.

When the square is finally set, President Paylor makes a visit. The square was big enough to fit almost eight thousand people before. With the amount filling it now, it’s almost laughable. But now more than ever before, there’s a sense of community. And when Paylor announces that we are no longer District 12, but now the state of Cinna, it’s all I can do to keep tears from spilling over. Her eyes find mine in the crowd, and she says “Let this day, the seventeenth of August, be known as Arkaios. A new beginning for Panem and it’s people.”

The people gathered are clapping and cheering, and in my heart I know that every choice I made, everything happening in the past several years, was for a reason. Even though the one person I did this for is not here with me physically, I feel her. I see her in the flowers Peeta planted around the house. I see her eyes in the blue sky after it rains. I see her ducktail in the lake when I hunt. And I know everything is right.

Further announcements from Paylor include telling us an official election will be held to choose the mayor of our new town, now called Everdeen and officially known as the capital of Cinna. And how now every district has a new name, and the larger ones are even split into halves or thirds. We’re now a country of twenty states, and they’re all named after people who sacrificed for the revolution.

People pat me on the back, their smiles in their eyes as they thank me. As if I rebuilt district 12 all by myself. I feel Peeta squeeze my hand, and when I look at him my heart swells. He’s like a kid in a candy store, eyes begging as he gently leads me to the new shops all around the square. “Look, Katniss!” He says a lot, pointing at shiny objects in the windows.

It’s odd seeing clothing stores here, imported straight from the Capitol. Some shop owners are who owned them previously, some are new people from District 13 (which is now known as Hawthorne), and there are even people from the Capitol who wanted a change of scenery.

As we walk towards the smell of the bakery, my thumb brushes the back of Peeta’s palm soothingly. He inhales deeply, and I watch his eyes close as if he’s remembering. I smell it too, yes the bread that’s baking now, but in the back of my mind it’s always there. The smell of scorched bread, hot against my hungry belly. When he opens his eyes it’s like I’m living it all over again, but as someone else. I see it through his eyes now. He says, “I’d burn that bread for you a thousand times if it always meant ending up here.”

And just like that, without even trying, I swear it. This is why I love him. He never thinks about what to say, it just comes out. Him and his damn words. I shake my head, roll my eyes, smile as I watch my feet kick at the newly paved brick road. “I know,” is all I can think of to say. It’s enough though, and he leans over and pecks me on the lips.

We spend the rest of that afternoon strolling through the new streets. It’s odd that they’re paved. Some lead off into nothing, just a space saver for future roads to be lined with houses. Instead of only houses, there are a lot more apartment buildings. They look similar to ones I remember seeing in the Capitol, except they’re on a smaller scale. The further we go down the main street, the more houses there are.

Peeta and I don’t talk much. And when we do, he does most of the talking. He’ll point out something to take notice of, his arm around my waist, hand squeezing my hip. He leads me to a side street that goes back to the Victor’s Village. I realize the sign isn’t there anymore, indicating there’s nothing special about this neighborhood. Except these houses are still mansions compared to the ones that were rebuilt.

Peeta moved into my house when we both realized there’s no point in both of us having huge houses all to ourselves. Now there are only two occupied homes. The street we live on never had a name, but there’s now a shiny new green sign that says ‘Rue Lane’.

To pass time now is an understatement. Some days go by so slow. I’ll go hunting and come back and still have a whole day to fill. The Capitol sends us food and supplies each month, so the only reason to hunt now is for passing time or for sport, which I never was a fan of. Still, whatever is in my game bag is dinner for the week. I’ll donate a lot to the soup kitchen. I like to help there, but honestly there’s not a lot of starving people anymore.

Peeta paints a lot now, his artwork lining the halls of our home. He still paints images from the arena, and those ones don’t make it into our personal gallery. Instead they’re tucked away in Prim’s old room because I never can get the courage to step past the thresh hold. Even in the short time she was here, it still smells of her. That door stays closed.

When it was raining non-stop, we both fell into a depression of sorts. I mean, with our lives already depressing as they are, it was inevitable. I yearned for sunshine, and hunting without becoming soaked and chilled to the bone. Peeta is more of an indoor person, but baking and painting can only tune out so much.

The Capital feed was available to us 24/7 now, along with other district channels. District 4, which is now rightfully named Odair, has a lot of fishing and boating shows. A new channel broadcasted reruns of ancient shows that were popular before Panem even existed. Peeta and I settled on _The Golden Girls_ , huddled together on the couch, the fire crackling adjacent from us. The way the rained poured down and how he holds me reminds me of the cave in the first arena, and I feel just as safe.

We both agreed we wouldn’t let each other drown. I’d fight for him as long as he fought for me. Hasn’t it always been this way?

Haymitch comes for dinner on Sundays. We watch a game show that has too many sound effects. He’s sober now, by choice. There have been plenty of chances to change that. But I think he sleeps a lot better now. Of course, we all still have our episodes. I wonder how Haymitch handles it since he’s alone most of the time. Now that there are real roads, he takes a lot of walks. I offered to teach him how to hunt, but he’s still too impatient. He shoots too early and stomps as loud as Peeta does. He is surprisingly great with snares though.

Within a few months, more people have immigrated to the little town of Everdeen. Travel is no longer a privilege and its fully taken advantage of. They even built a hotel, but it seems the people who were only visiting end up staying. Annie and Colin visit us often, and the way Peeta cares for that child makes me nervous. But I stop to think why, and realize we live in a world without the Hunger Games. Still, I was so used to the fact of knowing I would never have kids. I save that topic for a rainy day.

The house that Peeta lived in now belongs to the Mayor. Her name is Magda, and she has a daughter of eight. Her eyes match the blue sky, and her hair reminds me of Prim’s. She’s so young, I wonder if she realizes we've survived a war. I’m sure they go into great detail in school now though. Nothing is hidden. From what I’ve heard, they even have history from the previous North Americans, and across oceans far away. There is no disconnect. No feeling of being the only ones.

Some days are worse than others. I’ll wake up covered in sweat, my throat raw from screaming. Peeta calms me, his fingers raking through my hair, his breath steady as he waits it out. He never wakes up screaming, instead his arms go around me and I’m pulled in against his strong body. His nose buries into my hair, and he’ll mumble something like “You’re here,” or “Never leave me.” I caress his face, my thumb outlining his lips, and I say, “I’m here, always.” The safest I feel is in his arms. Nights like those never end in sleep.  

But then there are days where the past is the last thing on our minds, and we wake up in bliss. The sun shines through the window, and when Annie and little Colin are with us, he’ll come padding into our room. Peeta scoops him up and tickles him, his giggles loud enough to wake the neighborhood. I smile and touch his hair. He looks just like his father. And then Peeta says it. “I want a family with you.”

And the way he says it makes it seem so right. He doesn’t say, ‘I want kids’ or even just ‘I want a family’. The ‘with you’ part makes all the difference. My smile falters, but I look in his eyes, his bottom lip between his teeth. “Okay,” I say, and pull him in for a kiss. Colin giggles and says ‘eww!’ before wriggling away and dashing out of the bedroom door.

I find out I’m pregnant the day Effie Trinket comes to visit. “Well, I couldn’t just forget about my two victors, now could I?” She says, but she smiles partially towards Haymitch. I almost don’t recognize her without a wig. Her natural hair is a dirty blonde color, falling in highlighted waves past her shoulders. She wears light make up today, still outrageous to me with gold tinted eyebrows, but still light compared to her previous looks.

Effie sticks around longer than I thought she would, but she stays with Haymitch. It makes sense to me now, when I examine their relationship. For years Haymitch was the only constant she had other than visiting District 12, and come to think of it, Haymitch had no one. But he could always rely on seeing Effie every year. She comes and goes as she pleases, picking up fresh baked bread in the mornings, touching my belly before she leaves. I think she feels responsible, and there’s a flick of pride in her eyes when she smiles and heads back over to Haymitch.

It’s almost eight months later that I realize she’s made Everdeen her new home. “It’s all the rage, living outside the Capitol now!” She explains at Sunday dinner. But the way she looks at Haymitch, just one look and I know. I’m there too.

My mother comes to deliver the baby. Her eyes are silvery blue, but her hair as dark as coal. I never thought I could be so in love with a person. For as much as I loved Prim, and as much as I love Peeta, this love paled in comparison. She had me wrapped around her tiny little finger. I hum the meadow song to her whenever she cries, and she’s out within minutes.

Five years ago, I never would have thought this would be my life now. Hell, a year ago I never would have thought that either. But now it all makes sense. I’m free, Peeta is free, and my child is free. When she turns twelve, there will be no tesserae for her to sign up for. Her name will not be plucked from a bowl of starving children. She will never know what hunger is, or how to deal with it. My life, my choices, and everyone’s sacrifices have made sure of that.

As we sit in the meadow, the wind caressing my face, the sun shining low as it sets, I watch her eyes follow a mockingjay. Peeta has plucked dandelions and transformed them into a crown. He places it on her head, and she giggles. And then she pauses in awe when the mockingjay sings her giggle back to her. Her eyes reflect the sky, and I breath in deep, my throat catching as I find myself wishing Prim were here to see her, to be the healing aunt, to be another set of helping hands. Although, we have more than enough. Effie and Haymitch, the Hawthorne family who lives two houses down. Annie, Johanna, and my mother whenever they come to visit.

But then I remember, she is there. She’s in the trees, singing back to me, my mockingjay. She’s in the flowers I pass every morning when I take her on a walk. She’s in my baby’s eyes when she looks at the sky. My Primrose. When I sing, it’s for her.

_Deep in the meadow, under a willow. A bed of grass, a soft green pillow…_


End file.
